comatose ,but still alive
 ugly rumours,wind-borne tell
 of pissings in the wishing well
 how we lost our way back there
 surfin? high on pissed off glares
 we rode rings around our fears
 and couldn?t have asked for more

 endless summers in teenage lust
 like rhinoceros on angel-dust
 where nothing?s ever happening
 suburbia-mon amour
 there was no target we could miss
 cruising cool on prejudice
 how could we?ve avoided this?
 wise men ponder still...

 with the picks off of life?s upper shelf
 the only place I found myself was
 poised for flight in a mensroom stall
 drenched in alcohol

 and when sun she came peeking through
 there wasn?t much more to do
 cut our wrists on guilded sins
 and closed the door back in

 not good,not nice,
 but we saw through all of their lies
 not mean,not scared
 but there

 sinful and wind-borne